Screaming In Silence
by Asthenia
Summary: WARNING - SPOILERS. What if you had the chance to look back on all the decisions you made in your life? What if there were a million BAD decisions you wish you could erase? Erol reflects on his life - and realises just how much of a monster he has become.
1. Introduction

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INTRODUCTION  
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Sometimes, you just have to wonder, did you make the most out of your life? Did you take every oppertunity lunged your way, and did you make your choices wisely? What small changes could have made your life change for the better, or worse?

These are questions you can't answer until your life ends. And, coincidently, mine has.

Take my word for it, being dead isn't all its cracked up to be. There's been no fluffy clouds and pearly gates to welcome me, nor any burning hell-pit to punish me. There hasn't been anything apart from this strange numb feeling that I feel all over, even on the inside. And of course, the odd dream, that creeps up on me from time to time and takes over my subconcious.

I dream about my life. I dream about all those oppertunities I passed by, the terrible choices I made, and about all those stupid desicions I made that got me where I am now. The afterlife, in limbo, six feet under, wherever the hell I am. Which doesn't seem to be THE hell, as far as I'm aware.

Sure, there are plenty of things I've done that I'm not proud of. Maybe I belong in that inferno of pain that everyone believes hell to be.

My life's been riddled with achievements, but they're not honest ones. I've got there by way of force, or the positions I found myself in weren't the most pleasent.

Commander of the Krimzon Guard, for example. Sure, I thought that position was GREAT, I loved all the power I had, the control - the ability to do whatever I damn well pleased, and be as mean as hell to anybody I didn't like the look of. And get away with it.

Another achievement, the champion city racer. Sure, it took me years to get that good, be the best of the best and all, but heck, I race MEAN. I'll push racers into pits, force them to crash into walls, bash 'em about until their engines blew. I'd put pedal to the metal and all hell would break loose on the track until I got first to the finish line.

Maybe I always won because most of my opponents were eradicated. Y'know, sent to casualty in a burst of flames described as a 'zoomer incident'. Things like that gave me such an inexplainable rush.

And, perhaps the worst of my sins, my hatred for Jak, the Dark Warrior, the 'saviour of the city'. The torture I put him through, the terrible way I treated him, and all those dreadful thoughts I ever had concerning him. The things I was planning to do to him.

Perhaps this is hell. Perhaps my punishment is to be forever guilty and be forced to reflect on my godforsaken life.

I haven't always been this way. I was young once - and when you're young, you're just as good and innocent as the next kid.

Well, until the terrible thing happened.

I don't like thinking about it. I'd much rather forget about it all, and pretend it never happened.

But I suppose I don't have a choice. It has to be told, and now's as good a time as ever...  
Since I'm stuck in death for all eternity.


	2. Chapter One Alone

CHAPTER ONE: Alone

A/N : This fic is like a look back on Erol's life more than anything else. Childhood upwards - y'know, all the 'evil' people in the world always have some traumatic experiences for them to become 'bad'. And plus, we don't know a _thing_ about Erol's past, so this may fill a few blanks. Having SO much fun writing this. :D

DISCLAIMER: All belongs to Naughty Dog, except Megan, who you'll meet in chapter two.

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I was nine years old when it happened. 

It was a sunny, cheerful day in Haven City. It was probably about mid-afternoon, and I was out on the streets with some of my neighborhood friends, having hover-board races. 

"Okay, how about we race around the Port, in a circle?" I suggested, hopping back on my board. Back then, hover-boards weren't very speedy, poorly designed and had terrible handling. But, to us, they were a perfect method of transportation. The rumor that they were to be banned made us young kids even more stoked about owning one.

The three kids, who were taking a break, sitting by a wall, groaned collectively.

"Can't we leave it for today?" One asked hopefully.  
"Yeah Erol, it kinda gets boring racing when you win all the time."

I looked down at them, feeling confused and hurt. I loved a good race, the satisfaction of winning was the best feeling I'd experienced. I couldn't understand why they didn't want to try for it again. Plus, were they jealous of my winning streak? That hurt. They were supposed to be my friends, be supportive of my achievements. I stepped down from my board and picked it up.

"Fine then. We'll race tomorrow." I walked over to sit with them, a moody look on my face. "You're just jealous that I'm the best hover-board racer around."

"Yeah right," one snorted at me, "As if we'd be jealous of you. That's pathetic!" 

"You should be! I'm the fastest racer ever, and you can't even start your board without MY help." I shot back, getting to my feet.

"Take that back!" He yelled. "You take that back, or I'll... I'll-"

"You'll what? I'd like to see you TRY." I sneered at him. "Just try and hit me, bet you can't win me in a fight."

"Stop it, you two!" Said another kid, stepping between us. "You're being stupid, save it!"

"Fine," said my opponent, taking a seat.

"You wait." I snarled at him, sitting as far away from him as possible.

"It's getting late anyway, we'd better go home soon." The youngest said, playing with his shoelaces.

For a bunch of nine-year-old kids, we were pretty street-smart. We knew when to go home to avoid getting an earful from our over-protective parents. Once I had gone home well past nightfall, and I got grounded for a month - as well as a lengthy talk about Metal Heads prowling the streets at night and how it was unsafe for me to be out alone at such an hour.

Pfft. What Metal Heads? I'd never seen one in the city. I'd overheard adult's conversations about Metal Heads getting dangerously close to the city border, but nothing about them actually being inside the walls. Krimzon Guard numbers were low - there didn't seem to be much point in having a huge patrol to fight an inactive enemy. Besides, on the inside of the city walls, you were safe. The Baron's loudspeakers told us that all the time.

The Baron was relatively newly elected. The old Baron I don't remember much of, since a younger Baron Praxis stepped up to take the throne a year or so before I was born. Baron Praxis seemed to be doing a good job, anyway. I remember dreaming about being Baron of the city, and that was my answer to any question along the lines of 'so, Erol, what do you want to be when you grow up' thrown my way.

After a little while of sitting on the street, playing games with bottle-tops and showing off some new tricks on our hover-boards, we set off home. 'Home', for me, was the slums directly by the entrance to the industrial area. It was nice enough accommodation, in the nicest (and most expensive) area of the city slums. My father had worked as a Krimzon Guard for a couple of years, and with that you got slightly better houses. My friends all lived in relatively the same area, and most of their parents currently or previously worked in the Guard. 

It was an option that had once or twice crossed my mind while debating the 'what will I be when I grow up' question. Since people had told me that, to be a Baron, you had to be related to the previous one or be highly respected by him, I knew it was out of the question. But being a member of the Baron's elite forces - that sounded like a cool position. Fighting crime, kicking butt, shooting guns - every little boy's dream. But, when you're young, you don't really debate your future. The most pressing issue is what you're going to have for dinner when you return home.

"Race ya to the slums!" I said hopefully, as we took off on our boards.

My proposition was answered with another collective groan. I sighed, lowering my speed. I was a kid who loved to race. I was a kid who loved to win. Deathly competitive from an early age, I'd put my all into every competition I found myself in. Even if it was a simple journey back home, I just HAD to be first there. I don't know what sort of complex I had, all I know is that I had a burning desire to be #1 in everything. Losing was my worst fear.

As we reached the slums, I got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something wasn't right.  
I slowed down on my hover-board, looking worriedly ahead.

"What's up, Erol?" One kid asked, noticing I'd fallen behind. I NEVER dropped back.

"Something's... not right." I said, pointing ahead. "There's something wrong..."

"Yeah, it's weird around here." Another kid furthered the point. "There's something different about the place."

Then, a chorus of yelling and screams sounded from the slums up ahead. A look of fear simultaneously crossed all four of our faces.

"What... what's going on?" The third kid asked. He was the youngest of our group, by three years. 

"I.. don't know," one of my friends put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Do you think we should go in there?"

Then, there was an almighty roar. A scattered group of terrified adults surged towards us.

"Get out of here, kids!" A man yelled at us. "There's Metal Heads in the city!"

"Metal Heads?!" I exclaimed, my heart thudding desperately in my chest.

"Run for your lives, little ones!" A woman I rechognized from my block told us desperately. "They're right behind us, tearing up the houses! It's terrible! They're killing everything that moves!"

"Killing?" The little kid asked, tears welling up in his big eyes. "But we live there-"

I tried not to think about what was happening behind us, as we all sped off after the group of adults on our hover-boards.

We were scared, terrified even, but we put on a brave face. I was good at holding back emotion. Dad would refer to me as his 'little soldier'. I had to be strong, or I'd fall behind. And there were monsters back there.

We trusted our lives in the hands of these panicked adults. We followed them up the walkway and into a block that we had never seen the interior of before. It was out of bounds to us - the control room.

"Metal Heads?! Metal Heads in the city!! Oh my, oh dear, wait, you can't all come in here! This is a restricted area! I'm only watching over it! No - don't - stop! Aaagh!" A panicky voice could be heard from the interior. We hopped off our hover-boards and dashed inside. Once everyone was in, the doors rolled shut.

"Lock the door!" A man yelled roughly at the source of the panicked voice.

A young-looking man winced at the yell. He had short, slightly spiky white hair, poking out from under a hat. He wore goggles over his eyes, and his movements were erratic and panicky.

"I'm doing it, I'm doing it!" He pushed past us and jabbed at a few buttons on the panel next to the door. It clicked, locked. We were safe.

"Ya big bunch of nerves, Vin!" A man standing close to us said to the shaky guy. "We're lucky to be alive! We're lucky you opened that goddamn door in time!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He whimpered, cowering.

Gunshots could be heard outside the door. The Krimzon Guard were out there.

A deep-throated roar sounded, and something rammed at the door, making a sizable dent. A lot of people screamed. I felt a gasp rise out my throat.

The Metal Head rammed the door again. But then there was an audible short burst of fire, followed by the dying wheeze of the monster.

And then all was silent.

"Open up!" Came a rough-sounding voice from the other side of the door. "This is the Krimzon Guard. All Metal Heads have been eradicated. You can come out now!"

The room breathed a collective sigh of relief, and Vin collapsed thankfully. Someone activated the door release button, and the door opened in front of us.

Lying there was the dead body of a Metal Head. It's lifeless eyes stared up at us, blood smeared around its jaws. I looked at it with fear flooding through me. It's a sight that's never left me. As I stared at it, terror rooting me to the ground, I noticed something hooked around its teeth.

The remains of my mother's Precursor stone necklace.

I stared at it in shock. That couldn't be - that couldn't MEAN - unable to think straight, I ran out of the door, pushed past the guard, jumped on my hover-board and raced towards my house.

My father had always been fascinated with Precursors. He collected Precursorian artifacts - they were kept in a display cabinet in the hallway. He proposed to my mother by giving her that necklace, and she never removed it from around her neck.

Speeding through the streets, terrible images leapt out at me from every corner. Here, lay the fresh carcass of a Metal Head. There, lay a dead body of someone's father, and the family were crowded round the lifeless form weeping. Smashed glass and broken possessions were strewn everywhere.

I finally reached my house, and the first thing I said when I entered the fallen doorway was, "Mom?"

Inside, the house was a mess. Everything had been torn apart or tipped over. I couldn't help but notice there were drops of fresh blood on the floorboards. Fighting back the urge to cry, I headed on through the house, calling for my parents.

I reached my parent's bedroom, after finding nothing in the previous rooms. The sight I found made me want to scream.

My parents dead bodies lay on the floor, their lifeless hands holding onto one another's. Their bodies were mutilated by slashes and claw wounds all over. I barely rechognized them.

I didn't want to rechognize them.

I fell to my knees in front of their lifeless bodies. I tried calling their names, softly, uselessly. I couldn't hold it back any more. I burst into tears, my mind overwhelmed with what had happened.

My parents were dead. I was all alone. 

I felt lost, unsure of where to turn, what to do. I felt my heart break with sorrow for my parents. And in this swarming mix of emotions, I also felt desperate for revenge. I wanted to kill every damn Metal Head alive - make them pay for what they had done to my parents.

I cried for hours, until my eyes were red and sore and I felt weak and useless. I saw my mom's red bandanna hanging from the bedpost through my blurred eyes. I made my way over to it, picked it up and tied it around my left arm, as mentally I swore to avenge my parent's death. I'd get older, and then the Metal Heads would pay. With one last tearful look at my parent's bodies, I tore myself away, into my room to pack my clothes and belongings.

With my life secured on my shoulders, I started to walk down the hallway, taking small, slow steps. I didn't want to leave my home. I didn't want to leave everything behind me - the security of my family, the comfort you feel when you're with the ones you love.

I didn't want to be alone. I was nine years old and now I'd lost my parents. Even though my eyes felt sore and dry, I found more tears to cry. I dropped to my knees in the hallway, curling into a ball and sobbing. I didn't know what I was doing. I knew I couldn't stay in the house, but leaving it would mean I was leaving my life behind me.

I didn't know at the time, but some members of a secret force called the Underground were passing through the slums, looking for survivors among the rubble. Among their number was their leader, an old man whom they called 'the Shadow'. As they passed by my house, the Shadow must've heard my sobs, since he came inside.

"Is anybody in here?" He called, picking his way through the rubble. The sound of an unfamiliar voice shocked me to my senses and I stopped crying, got up and pressed myself against a wall. I don't know why, but I was afraid, and I didn't want him to find me.

"I'm here to help you," He continued, now coming up the stairway. "Please, come out."

I gasped when I realized he must've seen me. As I watched him, I saw nothing but a friendly old man with a bad haircut. Nervously, I stepped forward. He looked at me in surprise, before hurrying over.

"Boy, what's your name? Is there anyone else here?"

"Erol," I sniffed, and then, softly I said, "My parents are dead."

"Oh my," He said, and put a comforting arm around my shoulders. "Do you want to come with us? We'll give you a new home. This is terrible. I'm so sorry for what has happened."

I felt tears streaming down my face again, and hid my face in his arms.

"It's okay," he said softly, "My name is Samos. I'll look after you now."

He looked up to see my father's Precursor artifact cabinet. "My, this is quite a collection." He said quietly, more to himself than me.

I found words to tell him. "It's my father's." I turned to look up at the collection.

"I want to take the mask with me." I said, pointing at the centerpiece. It's bulging red insectoid-eyes burned at me, and it looked like the fierce Precursor warriors my father told me all the stories about. The ones who fought against the evil Hora-Quan. It looked perfect to scare the Metal Heads away - and it reminded me the most of my father.

"Of course you can." He said, and reached up for it, then passed it over to me. I held it close, it being much too big to wear. "We can stay as long as you like here. There's no rush."

"No, I want to leave now." I said, trying to make my voice sound confident, but I felt it breaking as I took my last look around. 

"If you're sure." He said, looking down at me. I nodded, picking up my bag.

He led me outside, and with one last look over my shoulder at my destroyed home, we left for the Underground.

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A/N: Man, that's depressing stuff for a first chapter o_O  
Sorry kids, but let's face it, this isn't going to be a happy tale. And yes, I know I'm obsessed with finding characters in the aftermath of Metal Head attacks (take my Pitor -Onin theory... *Pitor=Pecker*) but heck, it makes sense. It'll become more apparant as we get further on in this story what relevence these events have to Erol's past. And lickle Erol! How KYYOOOOT! And lol, old habits die hard. Notice how he boasts about how good at racing he is and how he makes a rival out of it. 'Tis adorable. ^__^   
And ya, there's some outer wear that Erol picks up that has significance now. *nods* So now there's an explanation behind the mask, and for the random bit of red material on his left arm. They remind him of his parents *^_^* aaw...  
AND, would you lookit that, Erol's going to live in the Underground HQ! And he got found by Samos. Ah, what wonderful coincidences ;) Young Vin also made a quick appearence in this chapter. Much fun.  
Yick, I don't like writing little Erol. He's got to be innocent and not the evil psycho we know and love him as... and I don't like writing OOC like that. But hell, he's got to have some sentiment in him for his parents...


End file.
